Perfect as I thought her
by Poetoffire
Summary: Autor finally tells Fakir about his feelings for Rue, and true to form, he just has to turn it into a lecture.  Onesided Autor/Rue and Fakir/Ahiru, post-series music drabble.  Some swearing.


To bring some levity into **Blood like sunlight**, the oneshots-based-on-songs series I wrote of PT fanfic, here's a nice little fic, humorous, some swearing, where we get Autor as a git with a heart of gold, the relationships and obsessions of the show are presented as things that can be moved past, and it all makes sense within canon and characterization.

Enjoy.

This is to take a breather. Tomorrow, I'll debut the most controversial/creepy/brutal one. Autor/Rue shares my "favorite pairing" spot with Mytho/Rue in the series. In the next fanfic, well, let's just say I took my two favorite pairings, wrote a oneshot where they are horrible news for everyone involved, and tried to keep it as in-character as possible.

But look, this isn't anything like this. It's based on an A Very Potter Sequel song, for crying out loud. The lyrics in the song include the word "pwned", there's no stuff like the next one in here. So have fun! And know what's coming.

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Song: Guys Like Potter

Artist: Tyler Brunsman, Joe Moses

Album: A Very Potter Sequel Soundtrack

Focus: Fakir, Autor, and their unrequited affections

Scenario: Post-series

Rating: PG (K+)

Warnings: Some swearing

Notes: I love this song. Snape can sing! And Lucius is amazing as always. It's about the Snape/Lilly/James triangle, and is very touching and sad...all while being utterly hilarious. So I tried to create a fic with a similar mood, in that it's serious stuff going on, but dealt with lightly. Nice guys rule! Unless they're creepy.

* * *

**Perfect as I thought her**

Fakir held out a dusty pink rose. "I understand, I'll never have you, because you deserve no less than a god. But even so, I want to savor this. Will you kiss me goodbye?"

"It's a stupid idea and that's an ugly flower," Autor said.

Fakir growled and replaced the rose in the flower shop display, nicking his finger on a thorn. "Shit!" he shook out his hand, sucked the blood from his finger, then wiped it on his pants. "Yeah, I know, I know. Well, what can I do? I don't write this stuff."

Autor wandered to the next trough of flowers. "Then don't."

"I have to, you know—see anything there?"

"Would orchids match the vase?" Autor asked, and pointed to a few.

"Yeah, but they don't smell nice."

Autor moved on. Slowly but surely, a furrow grew on his brow. "Why is it so important to have a bunch of flowers on the table anyway?"

"I don't want Rue bitching about me and Ahiru living in a sty."

Autor rolled his eyes. "Then you could stop writing and help me clean."

"Yeah, but girls are all about this 'special touches' crap, and I've got to—"

"Fakir? From the ballet school?"

They both turned to see a man in a shabby, vaguely purple suit that didn't fit him holding an orange bouquet. His face looked how Fakir currently felt, but there was a calmness to it that took it from stern to comical.

"Yeah?" Fakir asked.

The man shifted his flowers to one hand and rushed forward to shake. "Aren't you friends with Ahiru?"

Fakir made a sound in the back of his throat.

Autor coughed and stepped in front of him. He felt Fakir glare ancient swan-handled swords at his back. "Yeah, we live with her. Sorry about him, he's shy."

"My fiancé Hermia's friends with her," the man said. "She helped get us together, back at the academy."

"Congratulations on your engagement," Fakir said, trying to keep any and all emotion from his voice.

"Thanks. Hermia went through a postal phase, love letter stuff, and you got a lot of the letters, so she'd talk about you," Lysander said. "I think she mighta had a crush on you, actually. So, I was curious to meet you."

He took Fakir's hand and shook it, far too heartily.

"I thought Mytho got all the letters," Fakir said.

Bad topic. Lysander's dull green eyes narrowed.

Thankfully, Autor cut in before any further harm was done. "I'm Autor, I went to the music academy. I think I've seen some of your sculptures."

"You're lucky, my friend," Lysander said. "not being tied to this whole love-letter business. You think she wants you, and she's still swooning over that one kid! Ask Fakir about it."

Fakir shook his head. "No, um, Ahiru and I…aren't like that."

Understanding passed over Lysander's face, and he nodded. "Good for you, then. To not have to worry about it. You two seem pretty happy, so I'm not gonna waste any more of your time."

And he was gone, leaving Autor and Fakir sputtering.

"What an idiot," Fakir said.

"Can't blame him, though," Autor said, and plucked a tulip, holding it out to Fakir. "'A kiss goodbye, darling?'"

"You know I was talking about the story—"

Autor sniggered. "Pique gets together with Lysander. They have babies twice as ugly as they are. Hermia goes on a murderous rampage and bakes said ugly babies into pies. Happy ending!"

Fakir sighed. "Will you ever shut up?"

Autor mumbled something, and Fakir couldn't understand it.

"What?" Fakir asked.

"I said, I was…I was in love with Rue."

Up until that second, Fakir had thought Autor couldn't love anything other than the sound of his own voice and the idea of a cosmic destiny spun by Drosselmeyer. So he only gaped.

Autor turned away, running his fingers down the row of flowers. They were the color of Rue's eyes. Fakir had never worn that hideous crimson since she ensnared Mytho and would never wear it again, no matter how her genuine smile softened them now.

"I was really upset, thought everything I'd tried to create was crumbling in front of me. It was. She just lay on the ground, and then she rose and…something. You know, she carried me. She put it all together, with such ease and elegance."

Fakir wouldn't have cared, if his feelings hadn't hit so close to home.

"I knew about her, I wasn't stupid," Autor said. He probably didn't even care if Fakir listened. "I wasn't stupid, I knew she was dating Mytho, but when she told me she believed I could change the world…"

"She did that before, with that stupid fake-prince," Fakir said.

"I know that. But then, I knew that I stumbled upon her for a reason, and we were brought together by the story…and I knew I loved her. More than I knew anything before. So I told her. I said I loved her, and I would give up my life for her if it came to it."

Fakir stiffened. Something in Autor's voice wasn't right.

"And all that time, Mytho's face was in my mind, but I couldn't grasp it with her in front of me."

"What did she do?" Fakir asked.

Autor shrugged. "She laughed at me and screamed for me to leave, then collapsed into a sobbing heap, of course."

Fakir flinched.

"Roses have their thorns. I wasn't expecting anything. But I did what I needed to do. Ahiru tells me, she tells me that, now, Rue says it saved her. Seeing that someone could love her."

Fakir had gotten the gist of this conversation by now. "You really are an asshole, you know that?"

"Mytho is happy with Rue. She'll never love me, and he'll never love—"

"Why do you think I'm trying to get some moron to leave Pique alone?"

Fakir and Autor locked eyes and stood there, trying to figure each other out.

"It isn't going to make Ahiru get over him," Autor said.

"You're an idiot, I'm not going through this with you again," Fakir said, and began picking through the cart again. "Look, what'll match the vase?"

Autor took up a few daffodils.

"For god's sake," Fakir said, but he still snatched them from Autor's hands.


End file.
